


Distraction

by DaveJean



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Asra's Route, Blood Kink, Dom/sub, Hate Fuck, He only knows one way, Julian has to distract Lucio, Light BDSM, Lucio is just Lucio, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, They fuck again, They used to fuck, i mean kismesis, it gets kinky, they have some past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaveJean/pseuds/DaveJean
Summary: When the apprentice is in a tight situation, Julian is put in charge of distracting Lucio. One would think it is an easy task but even Lucio can be bright sometimes. The doctor knows how to push the count's buttons, and he decides to feel fully alive by taking all he can from the devil itself.





	1. Champagne

**1\. Champagne**

 

"Julian, can you distract him?"  
Asra's words come to you by surprise, and you ask: "Distract him how, exactly?"  
"Just be a massive pain in the ass" the magician says with a look on his face that screams /do whatever you want but do a lot of it/ like an open book.  
"Ohohoho, why didn't you say that in the first place? _That_ I can do." You answer cockily, your brain already generating outrageous situations.

You go around the ballroom, sliding through masked consorts and guests, getting closer to the live (and loud) Lucio. When you're about to speak to him he cuts you off, smiling as he believes whatever he is about to say is far more interesting. "My, my, what an eyesore you are, bird."  
"You certainly look better than the last time I saw you, Count Lucio. Not hard, considering the frantic sweat and dirty hair you fashioned your last days." You know you're walking the line, but pleasantries were never your forte with him.  
Lucio grimaces, and looks at you while his whole body moves faces you, emanating raw disdain. "Funny little thing, I just heard that old hag of a doctor was hung a few days ago. But you just sound like him, maybe the guard should check under that mask."  
That is your entry. "If you wanted to take a peek under what I'm wearing you can just ask, dear Count." You finish with a side smile that says it all. "But maybe first we could drink something, my mouth is rather dry now." You step into his personal space, forcing Lucio to tilt his head up in order to look at you in the eyes.  
It works.  
You can feel his energy shifting from disgust to interest, the kind you know well.  
"Servant. Two glasses of champagne, NOW." he orders without looking at the waiter he addresses. "Follow me, I need an update."  
You walk barely a step behind him, and you can feel the warm he irradiates. It's like there's something _else_ inside him... maybe the magic that has brought him back? So much has changed you know even consider magic a plausible explanation. All it took was to die and visit the Hanged Man again to open a little your stubborn mind.  
"Was my funeral grand, Jules? Frantic, ecstatic? Vesuvia crying over me for days, weeks, _months_. The whole city devastated in my absence, wondering how they might survive without me..." Lucio trails off.  
"I wasn't there." you blurt out without thinking it much. Those memories are ones you can recall. "As soon as your room went up in flames the palace filled with the rumor of me being the one who set the fire, and only until recently I was a firm believer of this lie." You look at him, his profile not far from where you stand. You are now in the veranda, looking at the garden and maze underneath. There are not many guests around, which gives you a false sense of privacy. A servant arrives with two tall glasses of champagne and you take yours, moving so you can face Lucio.  
"So you ran away like a guilty crow." the count states, taking a long sip of the bubbly drink. He lets out a small complacent smile. "Damn I missed this. The drinks, the heat, being alive."  
He looks like the Lucio you first knew. The man before the count, before the alchemic arm and the wedding and Vesuvia. The man that one day showed up in the ship you worked in, a handsome young man of your similar age, filled with ambition and desire. He had already a faint poisonous feeling around him, but he then smiled and laughed more, with more honesty. He was once a little human, and he was quite the company if you liked problems.  
You sigh. "I ran away as far as I could but this city called me like an old illness I could never get over with."  
"Ugh, don't be so dramatic." He dismisses. "Anyways, do you have any useful information? What was of Noddy, of Asra? And that little apprentice of yours? I think i never even learnt their name."  
His last words feel like a knife in you stomach, and you look away from him. You just want to slap him, punch him until he bleeds. It is a familiar wish.  
"They died before you... disappear. Of the plague."  
"Serves them right, shameless thief." Lucio mutters under his breath and you pretend not to pay attention.  
"As far as I heard Nadia has just recently take care of Vesuvia's affairs, as your courtiers were doing quite the poor job. Asra has been going out for long trips-" you're about to mention your old apprentice is alive and Asra took him under his wing, but you decide not to give Lucio that much. "and well Vesuvia seems only to remember you for the Masquerade mostly. At least the plague ended somehow." You purposely look at him, because you know now. You know now.  
"I hoped they'd be more thrilled to have me back, those ungrateful bastards. But I will see to it. Noddy has done a decent job organizing this party but it's still not **MY** Masquerade." He complains, and finishes his drink. "I need something stronger. SERVANT!"  
A young woman carrying an empty plate and wearing an sparrow mask appears out of nowhere.  
"Yes, Count Lucio?"  
"Bring me the most expensive red wine we have, and a couple of glasses. Take them to the room where he's staying." He orders and looks at me.  
"Eh, the third one on the left in the second floor." You speak a bit too fast.  
Lucio looks at you with a boring expression, as he was hoping you were staying in a better room. Nadia put you in one close to hers and away from the courtiers for a good reason, as you are supposedly dead.  
"Never mind, take the wine to the bathroom in the first floor." He leans into her ear, making eye contact with you, and whispers a few things you can't hear. You pretend to not care by finishing your champagne, but the uncertainty gives you a mixed feeling of heat and fear.  
When the servant leaves, he lifts one eyebrow at you. “After these drinks I get to peek under the mask.”  
You swallow hard, and you notice his eyes on your throat.


	2. Red Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio might be impatient but he is clean. Julian decides to give him some information that will come in handy later.

You hardly chat until you get to the bathroom, as Lucio insists on talking with everyone he deems worthy enough of listen how wonderful is the feat of beating death and come back alive. Only a few courtiers actually paid attention to him but he didn’t even notice. You also had to stop him from flirting with Natiqa - luckily enough Valerius was close and Lucio got distracted.

When you open the door of the bathroom you realize it is the one with the big pool and sights to the garden and city. It is empty - probably one of Lucio’s orders - and it smells like something spicy and warm, but you can’t quite name it.

“Lucio.” You say stretching the last vocal a little.

“What.”

“You and I know for a fact that water is not the best place to have… some fun time.” In your mind a few old memories remind you of all the reasons why it’s not a good idea.

“Who said I’d fuck you here in the pool?” he answers, offended. “I’m not gonna touch you if you aren’t clean and spotless, you fool.”   
You sigh with relief, and follow Lucio as you both undress. You leave your shirt, boots and jacket on a chair nearby, and you place your boots beside it. It takes you more time than the count as he is unruly even for undressing, so when you get to the water he’s already settled in, glass of wine in his right hand. He opens his eyes, his face calm as you have hardly seen it, and he gives you a wicked grin.   
“Oh my, what deal have you done Doctor? You are missing some old scars.”

Bloody hell. He is right. You panic for a second and, knowing your face is an open book, you decide to use the advantage you have.

“To be fair, I do not know. But what I _do_ know…” you say dropping your voice a little and moving towards him, your legs touching, “is that no one can leave now a mark on me.”

You’re happy to see your words have the desired effect: Lucio’s face goes from mild amuse to genuine interest, his mouth opening like he’s about to take a bite at you.   
“You don’t say…” his alchemic left hand moves above the water and towards you, and with his fingers he touches the lowest part of your neck, close to your left clavicle. The touch soon roughs and leaves three fine, red lines that drip some red blood down your chest. The symbol in your throat then comes alive and glowing, and the lines disappear softly, leaving behind the blood droplets. He leaves his glass of wine behind him.

Lucio’s grin grows bigger, and you can even feel his canines on your neck already.

“What a wonderful plaything you have become, Doctor.”

He then takes your chin with his thumb and index finger, and you feel the cold metal pulling you into him. There’s a heavy sensation in your chest, there’s a magnet there that pulls in and pushes away with the same force to the man in front of you. Fly or fight has never been an option with Lucio - the more repulsion you feel, the more closeness your body screams for.

You can’t see now anything but his eyes, that crimson red familiar as the mirrors you now and then look at, but they have something you lack. You are afraid of the red, you are not comfortable in your skin, but he is. His body irradiates power and confidence, impulsiveness on a level that shouldn’t be human - and it isn’t anymore. And while you’re lost in thought, he clings to your mouth like the first bite of ambrosia a dead man would take if he came back to life.

There are as many ways of kissing as people in the vast world you’re part of. You’ve had a fair share, from port to port and mouth to mouth. The ones you treasure are not many: that childhood friend you messed with in your younger years, that kissed like a sunflower smells like; that Prakra merchant, with plump lips that was never satisfied enough to let you go; the only magician you’ve been after, that kissed like he was made of water… Precious memories you are glad you haven’t entirely forgotten. But Lucio, Lucio. Lucio has always kissed like he was eating you, as if you were his last meal on earth and he had to have all of you, now, at once. He bites, he pulls and pushes, his hands are never resting - unless he wants them too, that sweet torture - and he is frantic, impatient.

You fear for a moment he could do it: ravish you, open you with his hands and bury that cold and inhuman hand of his in your guts, conquering you from the inside. And you’d let him. Not only because the pain makes not thinking easier, but because you know he is that good. You know he has no restraints, and it is exactly what you need.

Lucio has his hands already on your hips, his fingers clutching your skin as he’s savoring every bit of you pale neck. He is leaving red marks that hardly last the minute, and he is enjoying the game. That is, until the door opens.

“Excuse me,  _ Count Lucio. _ ”

You know that voice. When you turn around you find Pasha looking down at you, one eyebrow high and judging. Her gaze quickly focuses on Lucio, now enraged because of the intrusion. 

“I SAID NO-”

“The guests require your presence. The opening fireworks are about to start and Countess Nadia is waiting for you.” Her voice is so formal and detached you can feel the air around you getting colder.

Lucio grinds his teeth at Pasha, and you address him in order to cut off whatever he is about to scream about. “C’mon Lucenzo, Vesuvia is waiting for you and the night is still young.” 

He gives you the same look a five-year old would give to his mum when he’s told he has to wait for the dessert. If that five-year old kid was Lucio and his first reaction were to torn his mother into pieces for that offense, that is. But you can see how his brain reacts to the “crowd waiting for you” part, and he smiles again, dangerously. 

“Tell Noddy I’m on my way, and that if the fireworks start without me someone is gonna lose a limb.” He stands up, naked, and walks to the edge of the pool. “You can go now. Shoo shoo.” 

You try to ask for forgiveness when you look back at her, but Pasha seems both offended and amused. You let out a sigh, and taking Lucio's glass of wine, you finish it with one sip. 

 


	3. Gunpowder

You can feel the pulse and the beat of the fireworks through the thick soles of your knee-high boots. With the same intensity, you are aware of Lucio’s stare while you’re watching the spectacle with the rest of the guests, not far from their seats of honor. Every explosion shakes your body, and your mask reflects the vibrant green, red and golden colors, changing the lightning of your skin. That is what you imagine Lucio is drinking as he eyes you, and you take a moment to feel proud, to rejoice in the influence you can still have on him. He might be the dominant one, but he is always the one doing the chasing.

Lucio has to stay around after the fireworks and, even restless, he is able to be his egocentric and histrionic self. You notice him sharing some words with Nadia and some of her sisters, and you have to suppress a laugh at some of their faces. It is clear the only thing they respect about her sister’s marriage is the city she gets to rule. After all, weren’t they both drunk when they got married?

“Ilya.”

Asra’s voice comes from behind, and you sigh as you turn around to face the magician. But he isn’t there.

“Asra? What th-?” “Magic. I’m just sending you a message. I crossed to the Arcana realm to look for my apprentice, and we still need Lucio distracted.”

You look around, talking in a lower voice in case someone could be listening.

“For how long?”

There’s a pause, and you remember how time felt different when you faced The Hanged Man. But if you need this to work you need an specific time frame. “Give it or take, 6 hours. What time is there now?”

“The clock just struck midnight a while ago.”

“Perfect, I need you to keep him busy until morning.”

<<Couldn’t have asked for better timing.>> you think to yourself. “Consider that done. Just give me a message or randomly appear if you need anything else.”

You swear you can hear him smile.

“Have fun, Ilya.”

“I will.”

“Will what?”

Pasha is suddenly there, giving you that look. Her hands rest on her hips, and her mask reminds you so much of home it gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"Sorry Pasha, I was talking to Asra. Somehow.” You say with the smile you always have after her look, the one that a child caught with his hand in the cookie’s jar gives to a mother. No one would say you’re the oldest sibling.

“You are aware that getting him drunk and keeping an eye on him would suffice.” She criticizes, and your mind goes to a an old place.

Memories of your body covered in cuts, burns and bruises you were able to keep hidden. You will never tell her that, there’s no need.

“Pasha, don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid.”

She just stares at you.

“I won’t do anything _incredibly_ stupid” you correct yourself.

That seems to be enough, and her whole body shifts, ready to go. Nadia seems to be looking for her, her name being pronounced in the Countess’ soft Prakra accent.

“Send Malak if you need me.”

Before she leaves you kiss her head, and embrace her with one arm. “Don’t worry, alright? I’ll be fine.”

“You’d better be, or else I’ll cover you in leeches until you bleed out and die.”

You know she is serious, and you can’t help but smile as she leaves you alone in the crowd.

That is, until you feel a cold, metallic hand gripping your arm, and you’re devoured by shadows.


	4. Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally happens.

Your head already hurts, and when you open your eyes the room spins around you. You are not sure which room it is, but there's an arm on your chest, heavy and with edges, and it’s still quite dark outside. It looks like you both dozed off after the first round.  
You use your left hand to put away Lucio's arm. He is asleep, drooling on the pillows. His makeup is all smeared and you are quite sure the blood on his lips is yours. Eyes still closed, he rolls to his side while he mumbles something under his breath. Vesuvia, in law, Rasra, Diana and eggs; nothing makes sense to you.  
You sit up, only to confirm it isn’t a good idea. Your chest, legs and arms are covered in white and golden colors, and you realized it happened just three hours ago:

> _“Don't use the purple one, it doesn't suit me, Zio.”_   
>  _“That one is lavender candy, I detest it! Hmm… but this white one… Hah, it's all over your face now, Julesss.” Lucio says as his fingers unceremoniously paint your face._   
>  _“It tastes like baked eggs.” You tell him as some gets on your lips._   
>  _“Want some, Doctor?”_   
>  _“You're disgusting.” You reply, as you dip your right hand's fingers inside a bowl filled with blue paint. “I'll take the offer.” You laugh, and you paint Lucio's white tight trousers._   
>  _“OH NO YOU DIDN'T -”_

You can see in the dim light that surrounds you that he still has some blue pain on his thighs, and it does make you smile. The night is still young and so are you.

When you kick him on the side of his hips, he falls out of bed.

 

* * *

 

You are on your knees, mouth and mind focused. The leather smells strong as it closes around your throat, wrists and thighs. Breathe in, breathe out. Most things in life are just about breathing: staying afloat after a shipwreck, searching for the plague's cure surrounded by bodies in decomposition, the sweat in the air that can choke you in a frequented tavern. If you can maintain the rhythm and control it, your mind stays sharp and your body responds accordingly. But with him, focusing is quite a task.

His hands are all over you, with such hurry he doesn't know where to grab, pull, kiss or push. It's overwhelming and you blame the twenty salty bitters you each had. You just couldn't let him even think he could drown more shots of that awful liquid, when you are the one who had them for over two years as dinner.  
He's at you back, and his skin is on fire. His hands are buried deep in your hips, and you can feel his grip in your bones. You are spacing out now and then, and all you can think of are small things.  
The muscles of his legs against the back of yours.  
He, inside you, and how easy it is to welcome him.  
The pain that comes when he puts a cold hand around your throat, and your smile.  
The way he fights for breathing, how he grunts in your ear.  
How the bed makes a dry sound as it hits the wall.  
The taste of your own blood in your lips.  
You, on edge.  
You, his hostage.

Everything outside this room is abandoned, and you love the way it hurts.


	5. Run

A few rays of sunlight hit your face, and as you move your body curses you in the form of sore muscles. You groan as you sit up, slowly, and the bed feels wide and empty. He is gone.

You can see a few bottles of champagne on the floor, and some wine stains on the bed sheets. You are painted in gold, and you lick the paint - it tastes like lemon drops. Flashy and bitter, what else could Lucio ask for.

You have some foggy memories dancing around your mind: a parade of painted eggs, fireworks, leather mixed with vodka and your chest covered in bite marks and blood. When you look down you feel the heat and the soft skin, now healed, now white and covered in dried red. And over it, golden.

The bed on his side is still warm, and even if you did distract him through the night, your gut tells you he is doing something stupid.

 

You dress on your way to the fountain, and when Portia sees you half naked in the corridor, she understands.

 

The garden is quiet, and the humming of the water falling in the fountain just makes you more nervous.

He is not there.

 

"You! Have you seen the count?" You approach a guard closeby, almost yelling them.

"He took a carriage to the town, Sir...?" They look confused, slowly recognising you.

"Where to, exactly?" You urge them, and your mouth tastes suddenly like blood.

"He just said something about a thief and ending this fool's game, he was in a hurry."

 

By the time you get to the main door Portia already has called a carriage. She is inside with Countess Nadia, and you don't stop to argue.

"To the Magicians’ shop, NOW."

  
  


The shop is engulfed by a blinding white light, and when you open the door there are two persons with familiar features standing there looking at you.

"He just crossed over," the man says, his hair puffy and his eyes worried.

“There’s not much we can do now.” She finishes, and her gaze falls upon you, with a sad expression. 

 

Your shoulders fall, and you can feel Pasha’s touch at your back.   
“He is a dead man, anyways.”   
But you are not sure who are you talking about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know it's a bit of an odd ship, but I really wanted to write something for these two idiots. I do have some... awful version of the frolicking part :P So I may post it as a pwp soon... it was a bit too heavy for this one and it derailed to weird places - becoming incredibly dramatic in a bad sense. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for you kind kudos, and special thanks to Adie, Nico and my boyfriend <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend Adie for giving me not only the prompt but their hype.


End file.
